The Vacuum in Space Will Draw Me to You
by CaffeineChic
Summary: Collapsed. Life Station.


Collapsed.

Life Station.

Collapsed.

Life Station.

The words kept repeating themselves over and over and over, nothing else was registering—not sights, not sounds, not moving through the ship (proprietary be damned, it was as full-out a run as could be managed).

CollapsedLifeStationCollapsedLifeStation

She burst through the doors—"Where is he?"—her tone fleetingly attempting to represent the President asking after the Admiral before Laura, frantic, bled through to soak her words in fear for Bill.

She heard his voice before she found him: "Tell her I'm alright."

"Tell her yourself. I'm not your bodyguard, and we both know you're in for it now," Cottle threw back in response.

"Yeah."

She slipped around the curtain and stalled (in motion, in breathing); she had only seen him in Life Station as a patient once before (before before before they were _them_, before...so much). The sight of it crashed into her body, causing her to grasp for the curtain to steady herself. A hand flew to her mouth, the back pressing against her lips as she tried to find her equilibrium. Her eyes met his and held tightly.

"Great. _You_ get hauled in here and make _her_ worse." Cottle's grousing righted her quicker than anything else could have.

"I'm ok." Her voice shook only slightly. "What about him?" Her gaze never shifted from Bill's.

"I'm right here, Laura. I'm fine."

"He hit his head, not his larynx—he can talk for himself. And he's right, he's fine. Hard-headed idiot. I'll be back in a minute."

Laura flicked her eyes briefly in the direction of Cottle's retreating form. She reached out and grabbed Bill's leg (an anchor, a reassurance he was solid, in one piece), using the line of it to help her move up the length of the bed, grasping for his hand, his arm (checking, checking, checking that everything was where it was supposed to be). She placed her hand on his chest, finding his heartbeat, letting the steady thump thump thump beat against her palm.

His hand closed around hers and squeezed. "I'm alright. Hit my damned head is all."

Bill made to sit up, slowly, her hands steadying him as he swung his legs off the bed. She composed herself, holding herself against his shoulder with her left hand while the fingertips of the right flitted against his face, lightly brushing over his cheek, his jaw, the angry bruise she could now see marring his forehead.

"Tory...Tory said you'd collapsed...I, Gods...couldn't get here fast enough." Her fingers wound into his hair as she leaned down and pressed her lips against his cheek—too long to be simply a kiss, she breathed him in, absorbing his presence (intact, in blessed health, in her hands). She felt his hands on her waist, gripping tightly, reassuring her, repositioning her to stand between his legs.

She brushed her lips against the bruise. "What happened?"

He coughed guiltily, reluctantly parting with the words. "Slipped in the shower."

She pulled back, incredulous. "You did not."

"I did."

"Thank the Gods." A breath of relief flew from her (clumsiness she could cope with). He was looking at her, confused slightly by her response.

She didn't know how to express how she was feeling—the words seemed both too small and too big, they didn't fit the emotion no matter how she tried to shape them. They'd had fear chasing them for so long in one form or another (Cylons, rations, cancer), she'd forgotten what it felt like when that fear finally catches up, smashing into you at force and shaking you through to the very atoms of your composition.

_That_ was how she had felt when Tory had told her. A full tidal wave of fear slamming her violently. Catching her, encasing her, pulling her into its undertow. Trapped underwater. Whatever else Tory had said other than Life Station, Admiral, collapsed (she mentally noted to have words with her aide about fact-checking), lost in the current, never reaching her ears.

She moved her mouth to his and kissed him softly. He'd hit his head and she'd thought she'd drown in fear, but it was starting to recede now that she knew he was alright. She was riddled with a cancer that offered him no such peace of mind. How, she wondered, did he hear anything at all beneath his tides of fear?

She kissed him again, harder. So grateful he was alright, so grateful he stood with her when she wasn't, so grateful that he fought the tides and never let himself be washed away. His mouth opened beneath hers, responding eagerly, and she could feel his hands sneaking beneath the back of her shirt, lightly caressing her back. She pushed closer.

"Oh for frak's sake—this is a life station not the observation deck! You two can act like teenagers at home, on your own time." Cottle's voice startled them both. Laura took a half-step backwards, Bill's hands still on her back, a guilty grin reflecting off its mirror on each of their faces.

"We were just..." She trailed off, excuses seemed ridiculous at this point. Jack was well aware of their living arrangements.

Bill released her and faced Cottle. "We done here?"

"Yeah, here—take two of these in an hour and again tonight." Cottle handed over a bottle of pills, bypassing Bill and handing them straight to Laura. "Make sure he takes them. Any signs of concussion—bring him straight back."

Bill stood with slight indignation at Cottle's action. "I'm right here, Major."

"And you tripped in the shower like a drunk nugget. Lady gets to run the show."

Laura ducked her head to hide a smile, biting down to trap the giggle that was knocking against her teeth. Her hand trailed down Bill's arm to his hand, interwove their fingers and squeezed. "Come on, let's get you home."

She felt so much lighter, freer (he was standing, he was solid, he was leaving with her).

She was floating now, not drowning.

They started to walk out when she pushed gently into his side, words for only his ears "Slipped in the shower, Bill? Well, guess you can't be left unsupervised in there anymore."

He missed a step and almost tripped (again) before catching himself (and her around the waist). A grin tugged the corners of his mouth up as he pulled her closer, pressing his lips and the smile against her temple. "Guess not."


End file.
